A Baron for Becky (20 page)

“I have ordered
a light collation,” the Duchess told the newly-wed couple, after
they signed the register and thanked the cleric.

Becky looked
around. “Where is Sarah?”

“Aldridge has
her. They have gone ahead,” said Her Grace.

Hugh and Becky
found out why moments later, when they entered the parlour, to be
showered with rice and seeds from behind the door. A giggling Sarah
was sitting high on Aldridge’s shoulder.

Hugh reached
out for her. “Will you give your new papa a kiss, Sarah?” he asked.
She allowed herself to be lifted down, and gave him a shy peck on
the cheek, but retreated to her mother’s side as soon as he set her
on her feet.

Aldridge bowed
as though to the queen herself. “Lady Overton,” he said, which was
entirely correct, though the twinkle in his eye didn’t escape
Hugh’s notice. Aldridge knew full well, Hugh would punch him if he
tried to kiss the bride.

Aldridge soon
had Sarah giggling again, tempting her with bites from the many
selections the Duchess thought suitable for a light snack after a
wedding, and describing the delights that awaited her at Lord and
Lady Chirbury’s house, where she would spend the night with Lady
Daisy. Her excitement at the prospect overcame whatever concerns
she had about Hugh’s entry into her life.

“Will you and
Becky stay in the heir’s wing tonight?” Aldridge asked Hugh.

Never, Hugh
wanted to shout. Spend his first night with his new wife in the
Haverford House heir’s wing? Where he’d bedded more women than he
wanted to remember, and Aldridge had swived an entire army? They
would go to the apartment. Or a hotel.

But the duchess
spoke before he could answer.

“I have
arranged guest chambers for the Overtons, Aldridge, and tomorrow
they will return to the apartment Lady Overton shares with her
daughter.”

His daughter,
too, now. Becky was sitting with Sarah, showing her the ring with
which he’d sealed his promises. He’d scoured London to find one
with a stone that matched Becky’s eyes, a blue Irish topaz, set
with pearls, in a gold setting of hearts and doves.

Sarah’s
fingertip traced the gemstones. “It is so pretty, Mama.”

Very pretty,
the two dark heads, so alike.

“Your papa
chose well.” She blushed when she said
papa
, and looked more
beautiful than ever. How long would the duchess expect them to stay
and be polite before she would let them escape to these promised
guest chambers?

Mercifully, it
was no more than an interminable hour before Aldridge took pity.
“Now, Mama, we must leave the newlyweds to themselves. Hugh has
barely eaten a bite of this lovely tea, and Becky even less. Send
them off to their suite and let them sort themselves out.”

The duchess
looked at them doubtfully. “I’d like to invite you to come down to
dinner, only Haverford will be here, and he might be... I’m not
sure...”

“Send up a
collation, Mama,” Aldridge advised, giving Hugh a broad wink behind
his mother’s back.

Sarah clung a
little when Becky said goodnight.

Aldridge had
expected it, and planned a surprise to ease the moment. “Princess,
say goodnight to Mama and Papa. I have a surprise for you, and we
must not keep the horses waiting.”

Sarah narrowed
her eyes at him, exactly as Becky did when he promised to surprise
her, and she wasn’t sure she’d like it. His heart lurched.

“Quickly, now,”
he commanded, forcing a grin.

Sarah’s eyes
lit. “I know! You are taking me to Lady Daisy’s! In the curricle,
Uncle Lord Aldridge? With Prince and Brown Beauty?”

“In the
curricle,” Aldridge confirmed, and she tucked her hand into
his.

“Goodnight,
Mama,” she said. “I will see you tomorrow.”

The temptation
of the treat carried her downstairs, and through greeting the
horses she loved.

Tucked up
beside him with a rug to protect her from the September chill, she
turned sober again.

“What is it,
sweetling? Are you worried about your new papa? He is a good man,
Sarah, else I would not let you go to him.”

To his dismay,
she began to cry.

Aldridge pulled
the horses to a stop and sent the groom to their heads. If the
whole of London wished to look on, let them. He took the little
girl in his arms.

“Princess? What
is it? How can I fix it?”

She burrowed
into his shoulder, but shook her head. “You cannot. It is too
late.” The words were muffled by his coat, but he heard them
clearly enough. Too late for what?

“Tell me,
Sarah?” he coaxed.

She pulled her
head away enough to meet his eyes, her own brimming with tears. The
violence of her hug had knocked her bonnet off her head, and he
freed one hand to untie the ribbon that threatened to choke her.
When he brushed her chin with his hand, it seemed to spur her into
speech. “Why could you not keep us, Uncle Lord Aldridge? Do you not
love us anymore?”

Ah.

“I love you
very much, Sarah. I will always love you.”

He tucked her
back under his chin, rubbing his cheek against the silk of her
hair, so like her mother’s.

“Lord Overton
will keep you safe, you and your mother, in a way I cannot,
Princess.”

“But you are a
Great Man, Uncle Lord Aldridge. You can do anything,” the child
protested.

Not this. For
his mother’s sake, for the sake of the duchy, even for the sake of
Becky and Sarah, he could not have done what the child wanted. And
now it was too late. Hugh and Becky were married.

“I will make
you two promises, Sarah. First, I will always love you. For my
whole life, you will be my Princess Sarah, and I shall be your
Uncle Lord Aldridge”

“But I am going
far away and will not see you,” Sarah protested.

“Then you shall
write to me, and I to you. That is my second promise, Sarah. Lord
Overton is my friend, and he will be a good papa for you and a good
husband for your mother. But if he makes you unhappy, either one of
you, send for me, and I will come. I will always come, Princess,
and I will take you away. I promise.”

“Come. Let me
dry your eyes and tie your bonnet. Lady Daisy will be waiting.”

His promises
seemed to reassure her. She trotted into Chirbury House willingly
enough, and Rede and Anne escorted them up to the nursery floor.
Sarah greeted her friend with smiles and hugs. Aldridge and his
cousin watched from the door as Daisy showed off the treasures of
the playroom, and Sarah, at Anne’s prompting, described her
mother’s wedding.

She would be
content enough for tonight, and Becky and Hugh would soothe her
fears in the coming weeks.

He had been
planning to dine at his club, but it lacked appeal.

“Blue-devilled,
cousin?” Rede asked. The man was too perceptive by half.

Tonight,
though, he could not, would not, be the Merry Marquis. Or perhaps
he would. After all, legend had it, he always pleased himself.

“Anne?” he
asked, “Do you think I might stay for nursery tea?” Anne agreed
with the friendliest smile his disapproving cousin-by-marriage had
ever given.

Chapter Fifteen

“I could fit my entire
town-house in here,” said Becky, in a small awed voice that echoed
in the palatial suite.

“And a fair
part of Overton Park into the space left over,” Hugh told her. “The
Grenford family don’t do things by halves, do they?”

She smiled,
clearly cheered by the casual attitude he’d assumed for her
benefit. They walked through the suite together, exploring the two
bedchambers off a central sitting room, each with an adjoining
dressing room. Most of the furniture was in the modern style:
turned and gilded legs, damask upholstery in shades of green,
inlays of marquetry in a dozen different woods with highlights of
ivory and jet.

The draperies
were also green, brocade on the windows and figured velvet for the
hangings on the huge beds, the only old-fashioned note.
Undoubtedly, the beds had stayed because they were too big to shift
without cutting into pieces. Even so, they were dwarfed in the huge
rooms.

Becky’s night
attire had been laid out on one bed —a fetchingly virginal
nightrail in white linen with a bodice of sheer muslin trimmed with
lace and ribbons a deep flounce of lace at the hem. His cock
twitched. She wouldn’t need that.

Wait. Yes. Yes,
she would, for he’d take great pleasure in removing it. His smile
must have hinted at his thoughts, because Becky blushed.

His bag had
been unpacked in the other chamber. They’d see about that.

“Your chamber
or mine? And I warn you now, Becky, we will not have separate
chambers at Overton Park. I intend we shall spend every night in
the same bed.” No repeat of the debacle of his first marriage.

“You choose,”
she said, so he instructed the servants to move his things to
Becky’s room.

The servants
fussed around, putting out food and drink, making sure the fire was
stoked, plumping cushions, until Hugh chased them all out of the
suite, and he and Becky were alone at last.

She stood in
the middle of the vast expanse, lost and alone, till he crossed to
her and took both her hands.

“Do you want
something to eat?”

She shook her
head. “You go ahead, Hugh. I am not hungry.”

“I am not
hungry for food.”

She smiled and
nodded, looking up at him from under her lashes, her colour rising
again. Who knew that a woman of her experience could be shy? No. He
had to stop thinking that way. This was Becky. Rebecca Overton. His
wife. His baroness.

She followed
without comment when he led her by hand through to their
bedchamber.

There he
hesitated. “Becky, it is still daylight, but if I pull the
curtains...”

“No need, Hugh.
Unless... I am not too large and ugly yet, Hugh, truly.”

He shook his
head, grimacing. “I was thinking of my scars. They’re not pretty,
my dear. My first wife...”

She put her
finger on his lips. “Shall we agree, husband, that our pasts will
not enter our bedchamber? You gained those scars fighting for king
and country. They are nothing to be ashamed of.”

He kissed the
finger, then sucked it into his mouth, and she took a sharp breath.
“Hugh.” A breathy gasp. A trained response?

No. He mustn’t
think like that. She was right; no pasts in their bedchamber.

He took her
into his arms then, and kissed her as he had wished all week,
burying all doubts and questions in sheer sensation.